


Vaccine

by Nataruma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, Erotica, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Mind Control, Nobility, Nudity, Vampires, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nataruma/pseuds/Nataruma
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, rapidly decaying beneath the caul of ever-expanding polar glaciers and the cold darkness of evernight, the vervahn have evolved and carved out a superior existence for themselves as custodians of the last great bastions of civilization. Division among castes and classes is rife, with humanity earning its place on the bottom rung of the vervahn social hierarchy. Their influence extends in varying degrees from Liberty all the way to New Europa and beyond the Howling Sea, to lands unknown.





	Vaccine

Thronn knew that Nevan Lostradis was the scum of the earth, but every city needed its slum lords and cesspools. They were a part of the natural order, despite the Magistrate Authority’s efforts in attempting to weed them out of polite society. Thronn didn’t enjoy dealing with Lostradis, but his hands were tied by the inadequacies of his rank, and he was forced to go through the motions yet again. This visit was no more than a farcical display of power to appease those who would see Lostradis answer for his flagrant disregard of the law.

A slippery snow eel like Lostradis knew how to hide his tracks though. The books would always be clean, the product moved before anyone could open a formal investigation into the logistics channels of his operation, and the dispersed goods were extremely difficult to track once transactions were made. Even money trails were vexingly traceless, running through corporation after corporation, influential private investors and shrewd hedge fund benefactors alike, until the numbers disappeared into ever decreasing spirals.

It rankled, or rather, it used to set Thronn’s blood to boiling, until he understood that the objective of the Magistrate’s Authority in this case was never to take Lostradis to task over his various alleged transgressions, rather it was to maintain equilibrium. Two powers acting in opposition to one another needed a referee, and that was the current function of the Authority, at least that’s what it seemed like to Thronn.

In the end, as with anything else, it was about power. _Vervahn_ noblemen who had a lot of social influence could persuade even the arm of the law to bend favourably in their direction. Lostradis fell low on the totem pole of Eternity’s cream of the crop, but his clients were considerably more impressive, and they protected their assets rather well. Upsetting them would have been career-ending, even for someone with Thronn’s pedigree.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have let it aggravate him so much, it was a lot of thinking for a matter he couldn’t change, but his dislike for the man remained as potent as the first day they had met. Thronn had worked tirelessly and pursued the smallest lead that might have brought Lostradis to his knees, but nothing solid had materialised in over forty years, and the few incriminating pieces of evidence his staff had turned out were swiftly groomed out of existence.

Crunch. Thronn crushed the end of his cigarillo between his fangs, tasting the sweetness of the leaves, mixed with the earthy woody smoke swirling over his tongue. The butt was somewhat ruined and flaked tobacco onto his tongue, but the act was a satisfying avenue for his internal grievances. Staring out the glass with glowing gold eyes, Thronn watched the stacked levels of the city fall away in a multifaceted watercolour as the tube they rode in rose ever higher up the megascraper housing Lostradis’s penthouse.

Turning his attention back to the lift’s cab, Thronn watched his men shuffle in their dark grey long-coats impassively, until his eyes finally sought out his superior’s gaze in the gloom. Senn Ionn was a capable man in almost every regard, but a terrible disappointment when it came to sinking his fangs into Lostradis’s business. Not that Thronn would ever share his less-than-generous thoughts about Senn openly, after all, their working relationship was pleasant enough outside of this one annoying sticking point.

“Remember, we’re only here to ruffle his feathers,” Senn repeated in a quiet tone.

With his head cocked to the side, Thronn considered the statement Senn parroted out for the second time since they left the Central Authority Bureau, until the tightly-woven plaits of his black hair slid forward against the lapel of his long-coat. Smoke puffed out of his mouth and nose, the flavour of the cigarillo masking the bitterness bubbling on the back of his tongue. The warning was unwarranted, even if he disagreed with Senn, the man should have been satisfied with the fact that Thronn would carry out his duties regardless of personal feelings. The slight irritated him.

“Spare me your neuroticism, Senn,” Thronn murmured disinterestedly in a deep and resonating voice. Senn gave him a look out the corner of his eyes, the striking acid green colour of house Ionn that resembled pure distilled venin, but said nothing further on Thronn’s indelicate verbal offering.

The lift slowed its ascent, the men shuffled anew, and Thronn’s gaze whirled lazily towards the doors when the chime sounded and the mechanical voice informed them of the floor’s address. The doors barely hissed when they opened onto an outdoor courtyard, bursting at the seams with nocturnal flora. The trickle and burble of water fountains offered a soothing backdrop to the loud opulence of Lostradis’s taste in landscaping.

The wealth of it, the sheer excess would have astonished the innocent or the unfortunate masses who toiled away, trying to eke out a decent living for themselves down near the city’s ground levels, but the entire magistrate contingent passed through unimpressed. It would not have been anything they had not witnessed before. Senn moved at the fore, while Thronn brought up the rear, studying the shadowy nooks in the garden with a suspicious look in his eyes.

As ever, Lostradis’s staff were thorough; there was not a leaf out of place, nor a light source left dead or flickering in the expansive yard. Waiting for them at the front door was an impressive and severe-looking human butler, dressed in uniform, with his head bowed in respectful deference. Thronn narrowed his eyes as he took the cigarillo between his gloved forefinger and thumb and puffed one last billowing cloud of smoke out of his nose, before he crushed the butt against the side of a flowerbed and left its remains for Lostradis’s gardeners to find.

The paperwork Senn had drawn up for this little excursion convinced the butler promptly to bow and stand aside, offering them free passage into the slum tycoon’s private abode, though perhaps that was more rehearsed performance for their benefit than true acquiescence. Lostradis knew they were coming, he always did, it was practically more feasible to call ahead these days and let him know if they would be late to their appointment.

There were water features in the foyer, arranged around collections of art that spoke to the businessman’s baser tastes. Mirrors spanned entire walls, while glass dividers partitioned off sections of the hall and other rooms, offering boundaries but hardly any privacy. It wasn’t anything out of the norm as far as lairs went, but here every design and every object followed a theatrical bent and vied for a visitor’s attention, overwhelming them with structural distractions. The only thing Thronn could appreciate about the place was the soft jazz music playing over the apartment’s loudspeakers.

“The hounds come to call, again.”

Lostradis’s condescending tone grated on Thronn’s nerves when it cut through the Magistrate Authority’s miniature invasion of the property. Their eyes met, and the slippery snow eel of a man sneered, splitting his attractive features into a mask of vicious delight. Lostradis may have been a foul creature on the inside, but it seemed however unpleasant his nature, it was eclipsed in equal measure by his stunning looks.

The flattering drape of a silk robe against Lostradis’s svelte figure attracted the eyes. One side of the robe fell open, flashing a section of Lostradis’s fit body when he leaned down to retrieve the entertainment system’s remote control. The glint of a thin gold chain hanging around the man’s neck snagged Thronn’s attention briefly, before Senn stepped into the other nobleman’s personal space.

“Lostradis,” Senn greeted stiffly, with the right blend of familiarity and officiousness expected of the situation.

Thronn remained quiet, like the pensive men waiting for further instructions at his back. The paperwork rustled when Senn extracted it from his breast pocket, he unfurled it for Lostradis’s benefit and held it out for the man to peruse. Without missing a breath, the blond noble took the papers, threw himself dramatically against his sofa and began to skim the first page with a smirk splayed across his lips.

“These tired old games again, Senn?” Lostradis drawled, rolling his eyes. “You know I’ve nothing to hide. You’ve helped yourself to my files, my save drives, the books, all of it! It’s become something of a bland annoyance by now. Unless, this is some sort of sadistic infatuation of yours?”

To his credit, Senn didn’t balk at the sexual flavour of Lostradis’s criticism, choosing instead to plaster a pleasant and cajoling smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Thronn felt the itch of disgust scrape the back of his throat. Unlike his superior, Thronn was not interested in obeisances and prostrating himself before the houses pulling Lostradis’s strings from the shadows.

 _Never mind. Now’s not the time. Grind your fangs and bear it._ It was a mantra he didn’t need to recite often, but dealing with these affairs tended to induce its repetition. Senn interrupted Thronn’s introspection with his reply to Lostradis, “You keep flaunting your dealings so brazenly in our faces, Nevan. Makes it difficult to ignore, you know.”

Civil, polite, more than the cretin deserved, really. When Thronn looked over towards the recipient of Senn’s reply his gaze locked with Lostradis’s, studying the almost feline expression on the man’s face. Lostradis preened beneath Thronn’s attention, mistaking its intensity for heat. Without a lick of subtlety, the nobleman slid down against the cushions of the sofa and arched his back for Thronn’s benefit.

It would have been a lie to say Lostradis was unpleasant to look at, or that he had no skills in influencing people’s tastes. Even with his intense dislike, Thronn couldn’t help but admire the man’s dove grey skin and how it shimmered under the lights with his movements. However, Thronn’s appreciative scrutiny soon soured, especially when their eyes met again and Lostradis smirked smugly at him. The magistrate revoked his interest entirely.

“Well, I suppose my lair is yours to search. Not that you’ll find anything, but if it amuses your men, then I will have made this excursion worthwhile in some small way.”

Thronn waved the rest of the men forward with a few finger motions, having waited long enough to hear the man’s formal granting of permission for the inquest, he then moved past Lostradis himself to step into the back of the apartment. Once upon a time, Thronn had naively thought that all the answers to Nevan Lostradis’s undoing dwelt within the dark corners of his abode, but he had long since learned otherwise.

Moving from the lounge to the hallway beyond, Thronn joined the search efforts at a casual pace, seeing as there was no need to hurry the perfunctory search along. The difficulty he used to face in accepting an apathetic stance had long since passed, now Thronn went through the motions expected of him and quelled his desire to smash Lostradis’s face in. Anger was just a waste of energy under current circumstances.

His thoughts hit a standstill when he scented blood. The smell of it was almost intoxicatingly overpowering and tugged at his nose until it lead him upstairs to the master bedroom. All of the bedroom’s fixtures and design elements followed Lostradis’s preferred aesthetic; massive and suffocatingly opulent. It was full of expensive furniture, crafted more for design than comfort, save for the gargantuan bed dominating the central space.

The smell of sweetened slag was strongest here, coupled with the heavy musk of sex. An upended goblet that had once been filled with blood was now strewn across the marble floor, leaving behind messy congealed splatters. Thronn paused by the vanity, where a sloppy collection of discarded condoms seeped their generous contents wetly over the mirrored work surface. Thronn’s lips pulled back in disgust.

Everything Lostradis undertook was done slightly past socially acceptable limits, from interior decorating, to fucking. The use of condoms was a rare surprise though. They were not a necessity in vervahn society, but it may have been something of a personal kink for Lostradis. It shouldn’t have been so surprising really, given the man’s penchant for pushing the envelope.

Thronn turned to look at the bed, which was a mess of tangled sheets dotted with questionable fluids. Mixed in with all of Lostradis’s pheromones was a more subtle and softer thread of scents, something less tangy, something sweeter. It coiled out of the bedding when Thronn approached and curled up his nostrils, filling his nose and lungs with the same saccharine warmth. Like a finely-cultivated dessert blood.

A dull clinking rustle of movement from somewhere behind him made Thronn’s ears twitch. The magistrate bared his teeth, his senses sharpened, and the whites of his eyes flooded with rapidly expanding dark veins. He spun around to glare at the source of the noise, but there was no threat hidden in the shadows of the room, only a fluttering sheer curtain rustling by the half-open balcony door. Thronn calmed his aggression.

“Lostradis...”

A thin plea carried into the bedroom on the next puff of chilling breeze and Thronn’s attention snapped onto it. Lostradis’s mystery lover had not yet left the scene. It seemed extremely cruel for anyone to be left out in the cold following the exchange hinted at in the bedroom; however, knowing Lostradis’s unscrupulous nature, Thronn couldn’t say that it was entirely shocking.

Intrigued as to the identity of anyone who would put up with Lostradis’s character long enough to sleep with him, Thronn made his way leisurely towards the sliding door, pressed his fingers along the panel to open it the rest of the way and braved the chill of the balcony himself. The night air bit into the magistrate’s face and made it prickle, then swirled hungrily into the heated room like an angry beast.

The weather in Eternity always teetered close to freezing, the byproduct of a glacial age and minimal atmospheric control within the protective dome housing the city. With his higher body temperature, Thronn was far better equipped to deal with the weather than some who were far less fortunate. The cowering figure Thronn found shivering on the balcony was among those less fortunate.

Cuffed to the steel rail of the glass balustrade was Lostradis’s mystery lover. A young man dressed in nothing but a pair of colourful thigh-highs, made to face the chilling weather alone as punishment for some unknown transgression. With a heavily expelled breath the young man finally looked over his pale shoulder, finding Thronn’s silhouette with his desperate gaze, but froze with shock when he realised it was not his lover come to call.

He was not what Thronn had been expecting to find. The young man’s cerulean blue gaze tossed a metaphorical lance straight through Thronn’s core, and the hint of nightglow in it confused Thronn as to his possible genetic heritage. The young man’s petite stature conflicted with standard vervahn physiques, and his skin tone went beyond the palest spectrum of the vervahn palette.

The cold stung the perfect curvature of the young man’s nose and left it a deep shade of lavender, the same with his fingers and the points of his elbows. Another buffet of wind carried the young man’s scent back to Thronn, and the magistrate gripped the edge of the door with his gloved hand when the sweet perfume sent him reeling. The sight of him, his defenselessness, the swing of his stiff and weeping sex between his legs, the panicked heaving of his chest, coupled with the saccharine deliciousness of his smell overpowered Thronn’s senses and made his pulse quicken.

It was an instantaneous response. The magistrate grit his teeth and stared down at himself, at the bulge of an erection rapidly thickening in his trousers, then he glared at the youth with raw want. It was a raging hormonal attack that ripped control from his faculties and bade him strip himself down to his basic needs. Obeying his sudden rush of lust, Thronn closed the distance between the door and the young man, loomed over his diminutive form and gripped him possessively with a threatening hiss.

“N-uh!”

The protest was weak and momentary, Lostradis’s lover was stiff with cold, frightened at first, but soon arched back into the delicious heat radiating out of Thronn’s open long-coat, unwittingly stroking his small body into the hard lines of Thronn’s middle. Pure heat burst behind the magistrate’s eyes, thickening the dark veins in them until the whites appeared almost black, his fangs ached with the sudden need that rushed into his being.

_Bite him. Fuck him. Make him yours._

Thronn very nearly did exactly that. He wanted to. With every fibre of his being Thronn wanted nothing more than to jerk the young man’s hair aside, sink his fangs into his soft flesh, and thrust his cock in deep to claim him. He barely managed to hold himself back, by a thin thread of frayed reason. This was not who he was. It was not how he did things. He had completely lost control of himself somehow.

Frozen in mid-snarl, Thronn expelled a hot breath of his own. He forced his fingers to relax against the young man’s arms where they had latched onto him. Another steadying breath, another separation of lust as he strengthened his hold on his mental faculties, protecting against tangerment and other mind-altering influences.

Finally, and after several deep shaky breaths, his head cleared. The desire to claim and dominate was still present to some degree, but now Thronn plucked these thoughts apart in his mind, curious as to his sudden loss of control. He still held the young morsel against him, but this time when he looked down into the desperate eyes that looked back up at him, there was a sense of calm in place of unbridled heat. As if the young man realised this, he sighed and bowed back over the railing he was cuffed to, almost in defeat.

Like fishing out a gold thread waving in a dark murky pool, Thronn caught on to what had just transpired between them, and felt relieved for having sussed out an explanation. This was his first time coming across an _erotekaerus_ in the flesh. Thronn had underestimated the validity of the information he had on the trait, and the powerful effect of the delicious bloodlust-driven pheromones it produced.

There could be no mistake, this young man was no vervahn, but he was not entirely human either. No, he was something in between, and of such extreme rarity that Thronn marvelled at how he had escaped everyone’s notice, including his own. Gently, so as not to hurt the delicious little morsel, Thronn took the young man’s jaw in his gloved hand and tilted his head back again that he may gaze down into his face and study it further. The half-breed acquiesced without protest.

His breaths came in heavy little puffs between parted lips, misting in the cool air. The flash of fangs confirmed what Thronn had surmised, but he wanted a better look. He touched his thumb to the young man’s upper lip and pushed it up to reveal a single set of feeding fangs bracketing his incisors. No venin fangs. He wondered whether that was normal for a hybrid, but couldn’t form an opinion with the sparse information he had on them.

The metallic scent of the young man’s recent feeding rose up towards him and nearly unseated Thronn’s control again, but he clamped down on his desire a second time. To distract his snarling libido, Thronn ran his knuckles down the side of the young man’s face, trailing his touch down and around his neck where the solid loop of a pet collar was locked in place.

Of course, a pet. But a pet of this calibre would have required several months’ worth of paperwork to process, especially given his mixed heritage, in fact Lostradis would have been hard-pressed to maintain his exclusivity over him when a legion of researchers would have been foaming at the mouth for a chance to study such a rare anomaly. A fact that suggested to Thronn heavily that the legality of this transaction had been more than suspect.

The significance of what he had stumbled upon gradually began to wrap the magistrate up in a satisfying sense of triumph. Here, at last, and in the unlikeliest of places, he had found a linchpin in Lostradis’s illegal dealings. The realisation brought with it almost as heady a sense of satisfaction as the one the erotekaerus pheromones had promised him earlier. Forty years waiting for Lostradis to make a stupid mistake. A lovely, stupid mistake.

And he certainly was lovely, Thronn thought with thinly disguised interest, especially now when the half-breed’s attractiveness went beyond the physical. Pleasing to the eye, but weakened by cold, Thronn observed. Another shudder wracked the morsel’s thin limbs and made him cower against the heat at his back. Sympathy was a challenging emotion for Thronn, given the nature of his work and the nightmarish journeys it had taken him on, yet the sight of the struggling and shivering pet tugged on his withered ability to feel it.

The universal key Thronn extracted from his jacket pocket made short work of the cheap lock on the pet’s cuffs. They came away with a slight jingle when Thronn manipulated them off the man’s delicate bruised wrists. Unbalanced, the half-breed stumbled back against his unlikely saviour, groaning when Thronn scooped him up to carry him, lest he sink to his knees on the icy concrete floor.

The bed, while not clean, in the very least offered warmth and a comfortable place for Lostradis’s pet to regain his composure. Not that this feat seemed possible in his current state. When Thronn carefully relinquished his almost weightless burden on the sheets, the young half-breed clutched at the linens with one hand and squirmed, whimpering as a result of what the magistrate could only surmise was discomfort.

The cold was not the only thing the young pet had been battling with. His own trait left him bereft of focus, oscillating between pain and pleasure, until he abandoned composure and reached a quivering hand between his legs to grip and stroke his own hard sex. He would have accepted Thronn’s dominance without protest, judging by the silent invitation issued in the young man’s wanton gaze.

Once again Thronn was captivated by the young man’s beauty, and was enamoured of his sexuality. Under the bedroom lights Lostradis’s pet bloomed like a moonflower. Where blood rushed to the surface of his white skin it painted him in lilac and lavender shades, from the purple tip of his glistening and straining cock, to the orchid warmth colouring his cheekbones. A body shape rolling with curves that enticed an observer to touch.

Thronn spied the glint of gold hoops threaded through the peaks of the young man’s heather-toned nipples, then further down the scintillating sparkle of a pierced navel. The pet shed the cold’s distraction with every passing moment, until all that remained was his desperation, the movement of his hands, the hiss and moan of his breath.

Thronn’s eyes never left the half-breed’s artful form when he arched off the bed, choked on an outcry, then fell back against the pillows on the tail-end of a dry orgasm. Beautiful. Every part of him shivered and flooded with blood, until his white skin was a more uniform pale purple. The strain of his ordeal was palpable in the way his arched brows came together in a little frown, and the method of his strained breathing. His sex remained engorged, offering up only a meager droplet of clear fluid.

It all made sense now. The chalice of blood, the cuffs, even the use of the condoms. Thronn’s difficulty with sympathy loosened, and he reached out a gloved hand to stroke it through the pet’s auburn hair, a russet wave of lustrous softness. His eyes opened, regarded Thronn for a brief moment, then revoked their attention once more behind a line of long lashes.

“If you’re not here… To fuck me, then just please… Don’t ...”

A Liberty accent, and a level of rudeness that suggested this pet had remained untrained. Thronn’s interest peaked further. Where had Lostradis come across this treasure? It seemed inconceivable that his presence was mere coincidence. Pets were not an anomalous presence in vervahn households, rather they were the norm, but Lostradis had always been so clean, so careful, keeping himself well away from the product he dealt in beneath the surface of his official businesses. Yet here was proof to the contrary.

Amused, Thronn broke his severe concentration with a smirk. “A pet telling its betters what to do?”

The pet’s eyes opened and leveled a hot stare at Thronn that did something interesting south of his belt. “Not… A pet.” The pet grumbled out.

Indeed. Thronn’s gaze fell to the smooth circular collar locked around the young man’s neck, examining it to determine whether he had made a mistake as to its function or not. There was a tag, just as he suspected there would be. He took the metal chip between his forefinger and thumb and tugged until it extended with a hiss on the end of a coil of steel thread. Thronn pulled enough that he could wave it tauntingly in front of the young man’s eyes.

A pained expression passed over the young man’s features at the sight of the ID tag, but there were no further verbal offerings that would contradict his position within Lostradis’s household. There was just a moan, another quiver of his body, while a renewed flush circled his hairless crotch. Another sexual pang, so soon after climax? What a frightening master his trait was.

“Fuck,” the pet whimpered in a broken whisper.

Thronn let go of the ID tag, it hissed back on its steel coil until it met the collar again with a smart little click. _Luska._ A vervahn name. It had been engraved into the ID tag as a first-point identification, the rest of it would be embedded in the chip’s information. All it took was a quick scan with his comm to transfer the data and render it accessible, but Thronn left it at that for now.

Luska’s background would be combed through in due time back at the office, where Thronn had the necessary resources to dig deeply into his information, but for now a far more pressing issue presented itself in Luska’s bloodlust. There was a way to sate it harmlessly from what Thronn could recall of the condition, and while actively engaging in its suppression would have been shockingly good, he was not stupid enough to succumb to the desire.

No, another method was necessary. As unpleasant an alternative as it might have been, Thronn wordlessly rose off the bed to busy himself with its procurement. The disgusting sight of Lostradis’s discarded condoms pulled his lips back off his teeth, but Thronn retrieved one of the latex casings irrespective of his comfort level, and with his free hand began to rummage through the vanity drawers.

A narcotics drawer was not an unusual thing to come across in a nobleman’s bedroom, especially since it was no longer a criminal offense to produce, trade, or partake in them. Sure enough, the last drawer Thronn pulled out rattled with all manner of vials stuffed with glittering powders, glowing liquids, apparatuses for their consumption, and tools to enhance their flavours. He found the mechanical pipette he was seeking lying among everything else in there.

Eager to discard the condom as soon as possible, Thronn adjusted his grip on the pipette, held it upright then plunged the long tip into the gloopy mess of Lostradis’s ejaculate. Depressing the plunger earned Thronn his prize, and with that sorted he tossed the condom into the waste bin nearby, and wiped his glove with a tissue and discarded it in the same manner.

It was a unique method to leave someone indebted to him, but Thronn had always kept an open mind where negotiations were concerned, not that Luska seemed capable of putting up a fight. The young half-breed watched Thronn’s approach from his position on the bed. He caught sight of the pipette and began to struggle on the mattress, mistaking its contents for the mind-altering drugs Lostardis had foisted on him in past exchanges, if his reaction was anything to go by.

“Stop.” Thronn’s command stilled Luska’s movements, but the look of pure horror in the young man’s eyes tugged on Thronn’s sympathies even more.

“Don’t… Please don’t. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

The pleading began when Thronn repositioned himself on the bed. The anger he had hitherto ignored seemed to ignite under Luska’s influence, spurred into being when Thronn considered how many times Lostradis must have pumped him full of drugs to reach a point where he was deathly afraid of the prospect now. Enough. No more torture for this unfortunate little beauty tonight. It would perhaps be a short respite for Luska, but relief was surely better than his state of perpetual agonising lust.

Thronn took the pet’s thin arm to keep him in place, then leaned in to stare directly into Luska’s terrified eyes. It was just a small measure of tangerment, something Thronn would otherwise not have exposed freely nor condoned the use of, but it was the quickest and most painless way to go about it. The effect was immediate. Luska’s bright blue eyes widened, his pupils dilated to nearly double their size, then every muscle in his body went slack.

 _That’s it._ Thronn’s mental influence commanded the young man to lie still, to relax himself, and then to split his legs open. Obeying despite his own wishes, Luska’s legs swung outward on the bed, creating little furrows in the sheets and revealing the hidden purple warmth of his rear. A more perfect rounded shape could not have been designed, but Thronn focused his attention on the necessity of swiftness instead of Luska’s delicious backside.

With Thronn’s guiding hand, the pipette’s nozzle found the quivering hole of Luska’s swollen anus, and with a light pressure, slid into him unimpeded. Even here Lostradis had been careless with his attention. An aggravating disregard for such a finely crafted body irked Thronn to no end, but it was a fact that was sadly prevalent among the noble caste, just as their natural penchant for sadism coloured each and every one of their petty actions.

Well, relief was now at hand for Luska. Thronn depressed the plunger to release the fluid contained within the pipette, breaking the hold of his tangerment in the same instant. Luska’s body jerked as he resumed control of it, but his instinct to struggle faded when the wet sensation of Lostradis’s semen squirted inside of him. Understanding flashed in his incredulous gaze eventually, until he relaxed on the mattress under his own power.

The effect was not immediately obvious when Thronn carefully disengaged the pipette and placed it on the bedside table. Luska remained aroused and breathless for a while yet, with one arm cast across his eyes, shielding them from Thronn’s intense staring. It was not something the magistrate could help. The pheromone Luska gave off was compelling in its power to ensnare even the most disinterested of parties, and Thronn was anything but disinterested.

Eventually the overpowering saccharine smell dissipated. Thronn watched with interest when the pet’s erection finally softened and his sex curled passively between his legs, even his flushed skin paled again to the perfect shade of moonflower white it had been on the balcony, but Luska wouldn’t look at him. It was almost a crime to hide away those bright blue eyes like that.

Driven by his desire to look into them once more, Thronn reached out and tugged away the pale arm thrown across Luska’s face. The erotekaerus’s lashes were wet with tears. They leaked out the corners of his eyes and wet the pillow. It was an unexpected show of misery, but Thronn had seen hundreds of similar expression during his long career serving as a magistrate, why this scene should have affected him any more than the others he had been privy to was perplexing.

Thronn’s thumb touched the elegant curve of a lilac cheekbone, brushed Luska’s long lashes, and caught a drop of wetness off of them. It was salty on his dark grey tongue when he lapped it up for a taste. This small concession he made against his professional nature, answering at least one of the cacophonous desires he experienced towards Lostradis’s pet since discovering his existence.

But it was now time for him to go. Thronn took his leave of Lostradis’s pet with forced decorum. He paused at the bedroom door and retrieved a fresh cigarillo, casting one last admiring look at the young man’s luscious body laid out on the bed. A very different attitude surrounded the magistrate when he made his way back down to the ground floor. Thrilling positivity was never before possible when dealing with Nevan Lostradis in the past, but Thronn’s excitement was a crackle of nerves beneath the surface of his skin now.

The men found nothing, as expected. Senn made further apologies and obeisances to Lostradis for interrupting his evening, as expected. They left the premises with sarcasm and insults flung at their backs, as expected. But there was one little gemstone of a treasure hidden in Thronn’s pocket, which he fished out and examined when they filed into the lift to leave. He skimmed through the text on his comm’s screen almost hungrily.

So engrossed was he in the pet credentials, Thronn didn’t hear Senn’s inquiry until the Lord Magistrate asked it of him again. “I said have you found something after all, Thronn?”

Thronn paused in his skimming to glance up at the other man, then snapped his comm shut and replaced it in his breast pocket. “No. Nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Erotekaerus** \- A vervahn possessing a rare trait granting them the involuntary ability to tempt others into heightened sexual arousal.
> 
>  **Magistrate** \- A high-ranking enforcer of vervahn law.
> 
>  **Nightglow** \- The glow visibly projected by a vervahn's eyes.
> 
>  **Tangerment** \- A powerful form of heavily-regulated mind control.


End file.
